


Little Love, Brother of Mine

by Salted_Caramel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP, underaged drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salted_Caramel/pseuds/Salted_Caramel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something about a guy begging for cock looks so much more slutty than when a girl does. The fact that the guy begging for Arthur’s cock is none other than his little brother does nothing to change this.</p><p>Merlin is seventeen in this fic but I've marked it underaged just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Love, Brother of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> **_Warning:_** Even though their relationship is consensual and established, I’ve marked it dub-con because Merlin has been drinking and they are half brothers.
> 
>  ** _Author’s notes:_** HaHaha. Incest porn for the sake of incest porn. This turned out a lot fluffier than I had originally intended. Although Arthur is older than Merlin, I’ve left his exact age up to the reader’s imagination. Hope you guys enjoy. Comments would be so utterly welcomed :) 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely Tee who beta'd my fic. I fucking adore you. Any mistakes left are mine (please tell me!).

His step mother’s voice is soft in his ear from the bluetooth headset. “ _Pick him up?”_ Hunith asks, _“It slipped my mind that I have a work meeting today. Your father’s still away as well. I could get the chauffeur, but it’s his day off and I would hate to-”_

“It’s alright, mother.” Arthur cuts her off, already turning the wheel to change his course. “I can pick him up. But you know he’s seventeen, right? He could always take the tube.”

_“You know our Merlin. He’d get in all sorts of trouble. Remember what happened the last time he was left to his own devices?”_

Arthur chuckled. Merlin – the little idiot – had fallen asleep the first time he’d tried taking the tube alone, and somehow ended up in the seedy red light district. “We coddle him.”

 _“We do.”_ Hunith agrees, without an ounce of remorse. “ _You two boys have fun.”_

“We will,” Arthur promises, swallowing the guilt that builds up like bile at the back of his throat.

____

“Arthur!” Merlin says, face lighting up the moment he spots the familiar red Aston Martin. “Are you here to pick me up? Is mum alright?" He asks, popping into the passenger seat.

“She’s fine, just double booked.” Arthur says, looking at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Merlin seems to have avoided the adolescent curse of spots and greasy skin. He's smooth, everywhere. Pale and lithe with his too large ears and obscenely sharp cheekbones.

"Who were those boys before?" He asks, recalling the unsavoury looking students that had been talking to Merlin by the school gates. Well, as unsavoury as you can get for students from an elite public school.

"Nobody," Merlin replies, grip on his school bag tightening ever so slightly. He's stares out the window, trying to avoid eye contact and playing nonchalant.

It wasn't too long ago that Arthur was the same age as Merlin. Seventeen and on top of the world, hoarding secrets like a dragon would its gold. He lets the issue go, for now.

____

Arthur’s still mulling over what to do about Merlin’s sudden bout of secrecy after they’ve had dinner and Merlin excused himself to go shower.

Merlin is a terrible liar— or rather— he’s really bad at hiding his secrets. The school bag he had so nervously clutched before lays forgotten, sagging against the wall.

Arthur purses his lips. He could take a peek, but that seems like too much a violation of privacy. Instead, he busies himself channel surfing until he hears Merlin’s soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Nothing good on? Why don't you put on a movie?" Merlin asks, still towelling off his wet hair. He's wearing so very little, an obscure band tank top with gaping armholes that bare his sides and barely there black shorts that stop at his thighs.

Arthur's cock twitches at the sight, and he takes a moment to gather himself. "Merlin."

Merlin freezes at the tone, biting on his bottom lip as he hangs the fluffy towel around his neck. "Yeah?" He asks, already sounding hesitant. There's something else in his voice though, a barely hidden eagerness.

"What's in your bag?"

Squaring his shoulders, Merlin shrugs, flopping down next to Arthur on the plush, leather sofa. "School books. Gym shorts. Why?"

"That's all?" Arthur turns the television off and quietness replaces the meaningless noise of the running commercials.

"Yeah."

 _Stubborn brat_ , Arthur thinks, both exasperated and proud. Merlin is a Pendragon, stubbornness in their veins. "Alright then," Arthur gets up, retrieves it and drops it on the coffee table. The bag clinks, the hollow sound of glass thunking against a hard surface. "Open it."

"Sod off, Arthur." Merlin glares, gaze sapphire sharp. His lips are a fine, delicate line. “You’re not mum and dad.”

“Open it,” Arthur repeats. This time his voice is firmer. He’s not their parents, but he _is_ Merlin’s brother, and that still counts for something.  

Merlin lets out a huff, knowing that he’s been beat. At least he’s able to handle it with grace, unzipping the bag and pulling out the bottle of alcohol. “Don’t you start, Arthur,” he says, setting the bottle down onto the glass table. “I remember you coming home pissed off your face when you were my age.”

“True.” Arthur picks up the bottle, grimacing at the cheap quality of the vodka. “So you wanted to drink? To what? Get drunk? Party?”

“Morgana was going to have a small drink up,” Merlin, voice small and hesitant. He reaches for an overstuffed cushion, holding it to his chest like some sort of armour. “Nothing big. Just Will, Gwen and Dagael. Gili too.”

“If you’re going to get drunk-” Arthur all but saunters to the kitchen, opening the bottle and pouring the vile, piss poor quality vodka down the sink.

Merlin squawks in outrage, rushing over to the counter just as the last of the liquid dribbles out of the bottle. “Hey!” he exclaims, “Clotpole! Cabbage head!”

Arthur shrugs. They’re insults that only Merlin uses, nonsense insults he created when he was younger, when the meanings of words wasn’t so easy to grasp. During a time where things like sex and taboo had yet to exist, and the love they had for each other was untainted.

“If you’re going to get drunk-” Arthur repeats, binning the bottle, “I’d rather you do it under my roof.” He retrieves two glasses and a bottle of tasteful scotch that’s been aged for longer than Merlin’s been alive.

“Are you saying we can have the party at your place?”

Arthur’s never seen Merlin inebriated. He’s willing to admit that there’s a tiny part of him that’s curious to see just what kind of drunk Merlin is. “No, _Mer_ lin.” He pours the glasses, more for him, less for Merlin. “I’m saying that we’re going to drink tonight, and hopefully you’ll learn your lesson in the morning.”

Merlin pouts and looks like he he’s been denied Christmas. He doesn’t accept the glass that Arthur offers him. Instead, he swipes at the bottle, uncapping it and taking a big swill. “ _Urgh_ ” He groans, throat working as he swallows it down. His eyes are watery, lips puckered together in distaste. “This is _awful_.”

Arthur smiles, amused as he takes a sip from his own glass. “Don’t insult the scotch. It’s your taste buds that need tweaking.”

Merlin takes another swig, trying to chug it down as if it were milk. This time, he grimaces before  sticking out his tongue. A barbell shimmers against the pale pink appendage. He sets the bottle down, crawling onto Arthur’s lap.

It’s clumsy, and Arthur has to make sure he doesn’t spill his drink, but eventually they manage it. The weight on Merlin on top of him is familiar, comforting.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a prat?” Merlin says, tracing his nose along Arthur’s jaw with a small sigh.

Setting his glass down almost wistfully, Arthur slips his hands into the wide armholes of Merlin’s shirt, fingers tracing patterns over the fine skin. “My PA tells me all the time.” he says, dryly. “Via email, in fact.”

“It’s because you are.” Merlin is a total cuddle slut. It’s shameless, how he clings to Arthur like some sort of parasite, with his lithe limbs and lovely body. His greedy fingers delve under Arthur’s shirt, stealing away his warmth. “My prat.”

“Is that so?”

Merlin hums, his breath tickling against Arthur’s ear. Cheeky little shit that he is, Merlin sticks out his tongue to lick at Arthur’s ear, warm metal grazing the rim.

When he sits back, Arthur can tell that Merlin’s already tipsy. It’s no surprise that he’s a lightweight. The blush is already vivid on his cheeks, and his eyes have become glassy. “Arthur,” he practically purrs, licking his lips to leave an alluring sheen to them. “Arthur.” He bucks his hips forward, grinding against Arthur’s crotch. The thin fabric of his shorts does nothing to hide the fact that’s he’s already hard.

“ _Merlin_.” Arthur replies back, thumb tracing patterns on Merlin’s waist, dragging lower to delve along the waistband of Merlin's shorts.

It’sthe way he writhes, hips swaying, touches teasing and coy. Merlin is seventeen, still wet behind the ears, barely a man and yet he moves like a seasoned harlot desperate for coin. It’s enough to have Arthur hard and aching within his designer jeans in no time.

He feels almost bereft when Merlin’s lips leave his skin.  

“I want your cock,” Merlin begs, plump lips curving around his words. He slides down onto the floor, fingernails kneading the flesh of Arthur’s thighs through his jeans, nudging him to spread wider. Merlin starts sucking at the hard ridge of Arthur’s cock through his jeans, licking at the fabric. “Please?” he begs again, looking up from the bulge of Arthur’s cock with wet eyes.  

Something about a guy begging for cock looks so much more slutty than when a girl does. The fact that the guy begging for Arthur’s cock is none other than his little brother does nothing to change this.

Arthur makes a tight noise at the back of his throat, slouching further down the sofa. “Bloody tease,” he groans, fingers reaching out to drag across Merlin’s ears, down to his sharp cheekbones. He thumbs Merlin’s bottom lip, pressing against the tiny dip at the centre. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” he says, inhaling sharply when Merlin sucks on his thumb and nods before pulling away with a wet ‘pop’.

“I'm totally worth it though, aren't I” Merlin says with a grin as he undoes Arthur’s pants, reaching into the folds of fabric to pull out the straining erection within. “ _God_.” He moans, stroking the stiff flesh. “I love your cock.”

They’ve been fucking each other for how long now? Arthur will never get over it, the way Merlin’s slutty lips wraps around those filthy words, curt and clipped. ‘Merlin,” he says tightly, hand coming up to clutch at the fine strands of dark hair. “ _Fuck_.” He makes a silent vow to himself, to ensure Merlin is to never _ever_ drink if not in his presence. Not if it it turns him into this siren of a cockslut.

“Prat,” Merlin whispers, breath hot against the tip of Arthur’s cock. He stokes the base, sticks his tongue out and with a tiny, miniscule gesture, touches the slit of Arthur’s cock with his barbell piercing.

“Little shit,” Arthur growls, hips jerking as he tried vainly to not force his little brother’s head down onto his prick.

Merlin just chuckles before taking the tip into his mouth and moaning.

The vibrations make Arthur shiver, has him gripping so tightly at Merlin’s hair that it must be painful at this point, but all it seems to do is spur Merlin on even further. He takes in more, swallows down, barbell running along the thick vein, tongue lapping like a desperate kitten. It’s messy, makes saliva run down his chin, but he’s all the more beautiful for it.

Merlin’s a Pendragon at heart, competitive, all conquering with a constant need to be the best at everything. It doesn’t take long for him to deepthroat Arthur, cock sliding down his throat, nose pressing against a blond thatch of pubic hair. Then he looks up, looks at Arthur with a silent but triumphant ‘ _ta da_ ’.

Arthur almost forgets to breathe. He wants nothing more than to just face-fuck his little brother, come down that lovely throat and then smear whatever’s left over on those killer cheekbones, but he doesn’t.

“Bedroom. Now.” He commands, hauling Merlin over his shoulder. He’d fuck Merlin right there, in the middle of the living room, over the coffee table if he could. It's only the lack of lube stops him. Arthur hauls Merlin up as if he weighed nothing. He barely does, all spitfire personality wrapped in nothing but fine bones and smooth, clean skin.

The walk up the stairs is something of a challenge. Arthur is _aching,_ balls tight, cock bobbing as he carries Merlin.

Merlin laughs, clearly having fun as his own erection presses against Arthur’s shoulder. “Faster, Arthur!” he demands joyously, arms spread wide like birds wings. “Faster!”

Arthur rolls his eyes, smiling.

He pretty much hurls Merlin onto the four-poster bed, hard enough that Merlin lets out a tiny ‘oof’ as he bounces on the mattress. “Please tell me that you’re going to shag my brains out?” Merlin asks, eyes hungry as he watches Arthur strip himself of his clothes.  

“I’m going to do so much more than that,” Arthur promises, rummaging into the bedside drawers for the bottle of lube. “I’m going to ruin you.”

“Yeah?” Merlin says teasingly. He lies back on the bed, fishing out his cock from his shorts to languidly stroke and tease himself. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

It doesn't take long to find the bottle of lubricant, or to relieve Merlin of his flimsy clothing. Arthur doesn't waste his time, slicking up his fingers and reaching for his little brother's tight bottom. His fingers delve into tight wet heat and Arthur cannot help but groan out his pleasure. Virgin tight. Always.

He finds the smooth spot of flesh, taps and rubs against it until Merlin's thighs begin to shiver and his cock dribbles out precome.

Throwing his head back and baring his lovely throat Merlin hissed out his pleasure. "Unh, Arthur," he moans, internal muscles clenching onto the digits within him. "No, wait-" he begs. "Ar-" he starts, but it falls into a silent cry, eyes snapping open, mouth a perfect  'o' as he comes, painting his own chest with splatters of milky white.

'Prat", he pants with a groan, still shivering from his orgasm. "I wanted us to come together."

Arthur smiles, endeared as he feeds his cock into Merlin’s yielding flesh. “We can still do that,” he says, bottoming out with a breathless huff of laughter. He leans over Merlin, cages him in. “See?” He can already feel Merlin’s erection stiffening up again, hard against his belly. The perks of being young. “You’re already ready for round two.”

Merlin sticks out his tongue, cheeky and rebellious, as he reaches down to play with his own nipple, pinching and toying with the pink peak.

It makes Arthur kiss him, tongue plucking at the barbell, suckling at the soft flesh. He draws his cock out, until only the tip remains, before pushing back in with a groan.

Tangling his fingers into Arthur’s hair, Merlin nips on Arthur’s bottom lip, moaning like some lovely high-class whore as Arthur pounds into him.

They share open mouthed kisses, messy and hot. “I wasn’t kidding, was I?” Arthur says, breathless, tracing his nose along Merlin’s cheekbone, his jaw, before leaning over to bite down on his adam’s apple.

Merlin squeals, inner muscles clenching, hands tugging at the short strands of hair at the nape of Arthur’s neck. A sweet pain that has Arthur roughing up the pace.   

“That I was going to ruin you.” Another bite, this time on Merlin’s delicate shoulder. He licks at the raw mark, sucks on it. “All those women and men that father will one day parade around you? They’ll be nothing.”

“Won’t-” Merlin can barely get a sentence out, breathing stuttering as his body jostles against the bed. “Hold a candle,” he moans, almost drooling, the adorable little cockslut. “to you.”

This time, when Merlin comes, it’s almost silent. He clings to Arthur, bites on on his bottom lip and lets out this _tiny_ little noise as wetness coats their bellies. After that, he’s just a listless, pliable mess, made to be fucked.

“Merlin,” Arthur groans, shuddering as he comes, seeking his pleasure in his little brother. In the haze of his pleasure, he continues to languidly grind into Merlin with his over sensitized cock.

“You’re heavy,” Merlin grumbles with an ‘omf’ when Arthur falls on top of him in a big, sweaty heap.

“You’re bony,” Arthur replies, prodding Merlin in the ribs before rolling off. He pulls Merlin close, throwing the bedsheets over them into a comfortable cocoon.

“You’re a cabbage-head.” Merlin yarns, eyes fluttering closed.

“But I’m your cabbage-head, right?”

“Mhn…”

_____

 

Merlin wakes up aching in the best sort of way. He opens a bleary eye to Arthur’s grinning face, looking like the cat that not only got the cream, but also the canary.

“Ugh,” Merlin whimpers. “I hate you.” He shuffles closer anyways, into Arthur’s arms and sighs happily when Arthur’s warmth envelops him. He can feel Arthur’s morning erection against him, and makes a mental note to play with it later.  

Gentle fingers find his temples, rubbing soothingly, easing away the throbbing of a barely there headache. “It’s not my fault that you’re a lightweight,” Arthur says. “Aren’t you glad you got drunk with me? God knows what would’ve happened if you had gone to one of those frat parties.”

“You worry worse than mum _and_ dad.” Merlin makes it sound like a complaint, but it really isn’t, because he knows the truth. He knows that Arthur loves him, more than anything else, and can’t help but be a terrible worrywart because of it.  

Merlin can forgive Arthur occasionally being a prat out of worry.

“It’s really not my fault that my little brother is a trouble magnet. Remember when you were six? And broke your arm because you thought it would be a good idea to take the sleigh down the stairs?”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Merlin complains.

“Never,” Arthur says, placing a kiss on Merlin’s head.

It’s a lazy silence, that soft fuzzy feeling that comes with sharing a warm bed with someone so utterly dear to you. “Holidays are in two weeks,” Merlin says, attempting to not sound too excited but utterly failing.

“Where would you like to go?” Arthur asks.

Merlin’s always spent half his holidays travelling with Arthur. Mum and dad approve, thinking it as some sort of brotherly bonding. They don’t really know, and if he’s lucky, they’ll never will. “A private island?” He can see it already, endless days of sex and being able to hold hands and kiss out in the open. A tiny little world of their own.

“Sounds good,” Arthur agrees, and he kisses Merlin’s lips to seal the deal. “It’s a promise.”

 

 


End file.
